Just thinking about grace.

A friend said that "grace" is a word used far too often and far too simplistically. This means that even when grace is offered to those who need it, it is not always perceived in the way it ought to be perceived. As soon as grace is offered to those who understand not its depth, grace itself is compromised. I think it's true.

But perhaps it is equally true that grace is about acknowledging that those of us who offer grace are also the very people who need to find enough grace within us to offer it. The "offerers" of grace need to understand the depth of grace so well that they discern the virtue of offering a grace which abides despite the receiver's incapacity to understand or appreciate it in its fullness.

Such manner of grace is painful. Worse still, the inflictors do it unintentially. But when we understand this manner of grace, then we begin to grasp a glimpse of the depth of God's grace when he came in the flesh to offer a gift to a world that knew him not. In his grace, he offered grace to those who would provoke from within him the grace to face rejection.

We begin to understand grace as soon as we begin to comprehend just how difficult it is to offer grace. We eventually learn that graciousness comes with gracefulness. When you offer grace, something within you dies. So that something can grow.

Grace is more than a virtue. It is a spiritual dance.

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In the academia, there sometimes seems to be a strange sense of competition among scholars of different fields. It is a rivalry for dominance and primacy, each claiming his field of expertise to take a position of greater significance than the rest.

This is true not just of all fields, but also particularly of the field of theology. Even in talking about God, a very human tendency can sometimes overwhelm. We eventually come to hear overtones that seem to claim “my field of study” to be “of greater significance than yours.” In fact, such claims are most often made in the absence of the other “accused” parties so that they are not around to defend their rightful legitimacy in scholarship. This is most unjust and unethical for the spirit of healthy scholarship.

Theology, as it stands today, consists of various fields of specialised expertise: biblical theology, philosophical theology, historical theology, practical theology, and various other such fields.

Take, for example, the biblical theologian who claims dominance and self-sufficiency, thereby ignoring the legitimate contributions of the other fields of theological scholarship. She may claim, “Scripture is our rule of faith, hence, biblical theology is sufficient for engaging the needs of the world today. We do not need to articulate anything that goes beyond the confines of scripture. We are Christians, hence, the bible to us is all sufficient. Anything more than that is unnecessarily erroneous.” Underlying this claim for significance are some very telling assumptions embraced by the claimer.

Firstly, there is the assumption that the contents of scripture pertain to every dimension of life. In that case, then what does scripture say about stem cell research and human cloning? Absolutely nothing. Even when scripture does contain seemingly synonymous situations to those of contemporary situations like, say, war, one cannot take for granted that warfare in scripture is entirely synonymous to contemporary warfare; such a naïve assumption would require too big a leap and may lead to too simplistic a conclusion. In order for us to engage the contemporary realities of the world, more needs to be said than mere scripture-quoting; and this is the task of the theological ethicist. Scripture says much, but it does not say everything. It provides sufficient knowledge to bring humankind to an enlightened understanding of God’s story, but it does not exhaustively present ethical prescriptions for the community of faith that seeks to be a continuation of God’s story in the here-and-now. The theological ethicist brings the task of scriptural interpretation towards contemporary relevance, thereby emerging with more informed prescriptions of life in the present order. Whenever the biblical theologian tries to undertake the task of the theological ethicist by prescribing what scriptural principles mean for the ethical faith community today, she does so deficiently, for she is not trained to take into consideration various other non-negotiable factors.

Secondly, there is an assumption that doing biblical theology is the safest way to prevent one from pandering to hermeneutical bias. For a scholar to claim that the only trustworthy answers are to be found in scripture is already to betray her own culturally conditioned understanding of scripture. Where does the scholar acquire her hermeneutical lenses from? Or is the scholar ignoring the reality that there is no hermeneutical effort that can exist in a truly objective cultural vacuum? Because this assumption itself stems from an era of Christian history when it was thought that the epistemological enterprise could take place devoid of subjective cultural passions; this in itself was a culture dominating the scholarship of that era. Today, it is the contextual theologian who alerts all readers that no hermeneutics exist in a state of undisputed objectivity. The establishment of a science of interpretation that assumes the possibility of having no bias in one’s hermeneutical endeavour is itself a bias! And this is a bias that a contextual theologian readily admits to; perhaps the biblical theologian should do the same.

Thirdly, there is an assumption that doing biblical theology is simply about “returning to scripture” without having to take into due consideration the voices of other interpreters throughout the history of the faith community. It is thought that “returning to scripture” preserves the purity and simplicity of the faith. But it is purely and simply naïve. History has evidenced how the Protestant Reformation eventually broke out into a plethora of split after split because groups of people wanted to “return to scripture” without taking into consideration the scriptural interpretation of the church fathers and contemporary scholars. To continue uncritically in that tradition is to not have learned from our painful past. It is the historical theologian who rides upon the foundational interpretive task of the biblical theologian and brings to light the wisdom of past voices. It is the historical theologian who tells us what scripture says today in the light of what our church fathers have witnessed together with scripture.

In theological scholarship, we must never say, “No, I!” Humility is a most fundamental and non-negotiable component of theological scholarship. When the community of scholars gathers in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we acknowledge the intertwining of our spirits and minds as a Trinitarian community. In that attitude, we confess, “I cannot do without you, and we cannot do without the voice of the Spirit.” Then this will truly reflect the beauty of theology in all its abounding fullness.

Yes, we.

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Shared my ideas on Postcolonial Orthodoxy with some friends at the Emergent Malaysia Open Meeting yesterday. Alwyn's commentary on my thoughts is intriguing: read it here.

Sometimes I wonder why people ask me to share these thoughts when it's so obvious they can articulate them even better than I can! Thanks Al!

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When your body has been somewhat tossed around in a vehicle in accordance with the terrain of the Malaysian roads for as far as almost 2,000 kilometres in the past couple of weeks, all you'd want to do is shut down like my two doggies in the picture. While we may have a highway here, I'd gladly echo the words of an acquaintance of mine, "Highway my foot."

In the past couple of weeks, I've been having conversations with people from the pulpit, from lecture desks, and within circular settings (yes, I mean circular, not secular - for me, there is no secular). In my interactions, very sure signs of fatigue have now appeared: incoherent trains of thoughts, disconnected ideas, slurred speech, and inability to articulate with as much linguistic precision as I'd like to have done.

Too much travelling. Too much running around. Too much talking. Too much teaching.

Too little listening. Too little learning. Too little silence. Too little rest. Too little contemplation.

The implications are obvious if I don't self-impose a discipline of physical and mental rest. This is something I'm unwilling to compromise on. So for now, I'll rest. I'll sit at my desk and work with my thoughts, I'll blog, I'll sleep, I'll live with a rhythm. I won't be pulled by anything that threatens to drain out from me that which I don't possess. In that sense, I'll be resting.

So in the meantime when I'm asked to "do this" and "do that", to "come here" and "go there", my response has to be, "Sorry, closed for today." But for anything that helps me to relax and re-create... let's rock!

For now.

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It is commonly expressed that "times have changed." This is perhaps a universal reality, that times do change. But some perceive the winds of change as threats to the preservation of that which they hold dear. This is true of lifestyles, careers, worldviews, and philosophies.

What do we see in change? A cup half empty? Or a cup half full?

I think the human existence strives on change. It is a necessity, for we are progressive beings (not in the sense that we are becoming better and better, for that may not always be the case). We are progressive beings in that we thrive on change, because change is a necessary outcome of time. And since we are beings bound by time, change is an inevitable.

More than that, a part of the meaning we derive from life is that of reckoning with the realities of change. In struggling with change, we are propelled to think, to evaluate, and to choose. This struggle contributes to our existential meaning.

That aside, what do the changing times mean for the Christian community in terms of our struggle with changing paradigms? I believe it is a matter of how we choose to perceive such change.

For some, change simply means that we have to cling on more tightly to old paradigms just so we don't lose them in the sea of philosophical confusion. They eventually find themselves speaking a language that the world does not understand. By way of self-justification, they say "We are being counter-cultural."

For others, change means embracing it in totality and basking in the latest fads of philosophical concerns. They eventually lose themselves too, often without even realising that they have. By way of self-justification, they say "We are being relevant."

For yet others, change means critically understanding the potential dangers that the impending change may bring. At the same time, this realisation entails a discernment of the prospects offered by change. They therefore dilligently and wisely seek to critique the dangers of such change, whilst still seeking to embrace it by capitalising on its prospects to a place of relevance in a changing world.

For these more secure ones, they also find a peace within themselves to acknowledge that changing times necessitate them to critically examine their own worldviews. And to change, if necessary. For they know that change is all right. Change can be good.

Change. It is a constant. It is a non-negotiable. Thus we cannot afford to live in ignorance of it. But the way we choose to respond to change is, in the final analysis, a gauge of how secure or insecure we find ourselves in the midst of changing times. Is the cup half full, or is it half empty?

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As I recall, the last time I actually sat down at McDonald's in Singapore to blog was end of last year. I am at this moment trying to make the best use of my time while awaiting my next appointment at 11am. In moments like this, McDonald's comes in useful (only in Singapore though, because the Malaysian McDonald's has no such internet services). The breakfast isn't too bad either, notwithstanding that the coffee tastes like rust diluted in plain water to me.

In my mind, sitting in McDonald's very much represents life in the city.

Life in the city. After generations of strife for progress and the struggle for upward mobility, many seem to have discovered in horror that there is nothing at the top. Life in the city leaves a bitter aftertaste. It invokes a sense of alienation and a guilt-ridden ambivalence regarding the identity of one's personhood.

The strange thing is that it feels almost "wrong" to even entertain these emotions of alienation and ambivelance, because society preaches that the city is precisely where life is to be found. Therefore, to feel a sense of lostness amidst the nameless faces in the crowd and a sore feeling of namelessness within one's self is to speak against the gospel of productivity and efficiency, or so it seems. So it is "wrong" to feel that way.

We are made to believe that life in the city is the pathway to freedom. After all, material wealth is the surest way to the making of the "self". For the authorities, it is the surest way to invoke cooperation from the masses to serve a desired cause.

But the discerning community should not be deceived. We all serve something in life. And this pathway to freedom comes at the cost of serving an invisible hand. The invisible hand is almost undefinable. It is there, nevertheless. This invisible hand creates a felt need within the human heart, and propels the human person to strive to achieve. But the achievements and the attainments never seem enough, because the invisible hand keeps deepening the felt need by creating more and more objects of passion.

It never ends until one decides to end it. To stop being deceived.

In the city, it is easy to believe in Jesus without believing in community. Unfortunately, one does not go without the other. To believe in a "Christ" and not live in a community is to not have met the Christ of community.

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What drives a human person to maintain a rhythm of life from day to day? What propels the momentum of life's pursuits? I think it is the human capacity to dream. Ambition is a major source of meaning for us; the inclination to reach out towards progress and scale the heights of self-realisation.

It is a myth to claim that one's capacity for ambition ceases when one embraces Christ's vision of the Kingdom. I think a more accurate delineation of this reality is this: one's ambition becomes further heightened when one starts dreaming of the Kingdom. The journey towards the Kingdom is not only one of knowing the heart of God; it is also a journey of discovering one's self in a way one has never understood before.

In the process of knowing God, we increasingly know ourselves. And it is in knowing ourselves that we sharpen our sense of identities as people of the Kingdom. As our identities are sharpened, our capacities to embrace Kingdom-dreams are enhanced. Thus, one's ambition becomes further heightened when one stars dreaming of the Kingdom.

But let us kid ourselves not. Our world is not yet established in the fullness of God's reign. Meanwhile, we still struggle with the reality of dreams that are beyond our reach. Emotional survival in a world littered with broken dreams is no easy feat. The broken world provokes you towards meaninglessness and emotional vacuum. It robs you of your prospects that span beyond the present.

In the face of this reality, what will you do? What should you do? Sure, we take time to lament the fracture of our dreams which never came true. We grieve. But thereafter, what should you do? Because tomorrow is most likely going to come anyway, whether or not we look forward to it.

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The contents of this post is a reply to Irene's letter:
A Safe Place

Dear Irene,

Hey hey... here I am! Thanks for giving me the time to get over the trauma of a 30th birthday before getting back to our correspondence, hehe. Wow, it's been a crazy two weeks for me, I tell you. Amidst the fun of camps, friendships, kingdom-talk, and mountaintop epiphanies, I've been terribly dazed at the pace at which I've been moving in the past two weeks. *exhales*

And it hasn't ended yet! I'll be off to Singapore this Wednesday, and then back in Seremban on either Thursday night or Friday noon. And after that, I'll be in KL on Saturday having a conversation with my friends at the Emergent Malaysia Open Meeting. So I figured that if I don't reply your letter NOW, I may not have the opportunity to do so in the coming week either, and you may not wanna talk to me again... ever.

You know what, I'm glad even if you're still not yet able to emotionally grasp the reality of God as Friend and Father, that you have Bob and me as a starting point. This would mean that there is in fact a model of unconditionally accepting relationships in your life, even if this model exists in imperfection. I believe the kind of relationship you're experiencing with Bob and me is what I've often called a "relationship of grace."

Now, you know the thing I have about clichés, so this term "relationship of grace" isn't a cliché term at all. It's a term that speaks about how Christian friendships should be visible embodiments of the grace of God. The grace of God is such that it precedes repentance. For centuries now, the Christian community has been speaking about how God's forgiveness and grace are contingent upon our repentance. I challenge this paradigm. Because in the life of Jesus our Friend, we see how he offers grace and friendship unconditionally without tying his intentions to any hidden agenda to provoke repentance. And it is often this unconditional offer of grace itself that invokes a grateful heart towards repentance in the first place. Such is the paradox of grace!

So you see, the greatest injustice that you can do to your friendship with God is to focus your attention on sin and judgement when God himself remains fixated on a desire to restore his friendship with you. When you condemn yourself and judge yourself by the measure of your worthiness, you dishonour his unconditional acceptance of you. I guess what I'm saying is that God truly desires for you to reach out to him in response to his offer of friendship.

Many (if not all) of us are products of a broken past. Likewise, it is very probable the your inability to experience God as Friend and Father may be a result of a similar type of relationship that has conditioned your understanding of father figures. And if so, it is necessary to move beyond the link that you have subconsciously created between these unpleasant father figures and your understanding of God.

I think you need to do some "re-linking." Look around you and see if there are other relationships of grace in your life (like that of yours with Bob and with me). And begin to consciously link these safe relationships positively with your conception of the friendship of God. Each time you experience grace from these relationships, consciously tell yourself, "Ah, this is supposed to be what my friendship with God looks like." In so doing, you are nurturing yourself by reconditioning your emotions towards a more positive experience of God as your Friend and Father. You reckon this can work for you?

I'm inclined to think that our receptivity towards signals that we receive from our environment is selective. As such, I think it may benefit you to be more consciously selective of what you choose from your sense-experience that you allow to actively condition your understanding of God. He loves you. Unconditionally.

Here I go again, spending lots of my life on the road. Until then...ciaoz!

To friendship!
Sherman

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If having this brother on the poster would still make people buy the drink, then I'd say the drink is really good! (That man might as well be me!) Puts contemporary advertising into a proper perspective, doesn't it? Ah, the power of satire.

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Picture: Billy Graham Crusade, Minneapolis, 1996

This series of articles does not exhaustively represent my concern for Evangelicalism. It merely presents my concerns in very broad strokes, which is not necessarily systematic either. But the Evangelical crisis is so multi-faceted that it takes more than a mere series of blog entries to describe its present complications. Hence, this is more likely an appetiser for further, deeper and more exhaustive thought.

It is relatively easier to critique a movement from a distance. But when one's comrades - including one's self (together with his conditioned sensibilities) - constitute a part of that movement, critiquing the movement is no cheap pleasure. When you emerge from an Asian culture like mine, re-examining your familial and religious roots with a critical mind often seems to be an unfilial exercise. It often comes with a perceived indication that one has gone over to "the other side." It is tough to critique one's own faith when one's own brothers adamantly persist in the notion that to critique in this manner is wrong and un-Christian. It causes one to be often perceived as being unduly critical.

And yet, to do so is also to acknowledge the evidence of a faith that is maturing towards an identity of its own. Whilst Evangelicalism is rooted in a particular historical reality, and I do belong to and identify with the said historical reality, maturity in the faith also entails a necessary re-evaluation of the shape that Evangelicalism has taken now. We need to ask the same foundational questions all over again: What is Evangelicalism? What shape should it take for our various local contexts? What constitutes the foundation for the unity of Evangelicals? At this point of time, almost anything and everything has found its way into Evangelicalism, ranging from the scripture-based but hermeneutically insensitive fundamentalism to the culturally sensitive but scripturally relative liberalism. Evangelicalism has now become a mere label for one's religious identification.

Recently, I had a long chat with an accomplished Asian theologian who is also bishop of my ecclesiastical denomination. I lamented to him that I have often been accused of being "liberal", "slippery", or "non-evangelical" simply because I suffer a discontentment arising from what I deem to be an Evangelical bankruptcy. My theological positions often place me at the margins of Evangelicalism. He seemed to fully identify with my lament, and responded by saying, "Yes, this places us at the margins of Evangelicalism, but also at the forefront." He went on to mutter something akin to saying that there is often a price to pay for being at the forefront or an agent of change.

Perhaps it is time once again for a new Reformation to take place. I do not refer to a Reformation that negates the old, but rather, one that preserves the spirit of the old in a fresh way. It is perhaps time for more Evangelical Christians to begin re-examining the faith that we have held for several centuries and to confess, "Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise. God help me." If my suspicion proves true, what once used to be a Reformation that divided the church universal may now be a Reformation that unites.

Editor's Note: This series on Evangelical Shifts is also posted on Generous Orthodoxy.

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This day marks 30 years of my earthly existence (not that I know of another "unearthly" existence).

Somehow, at this stage of one's life journey, one ceases to revel in the idea of standing in the heat of an overdriven celebration (notwithstanding that for the most part, I've managed to forget my birthdays until several days after anyway). I guess the one thought that sustains throughout this anniversary is a question: What matters? After having lived through several ordeals in life, one eventually learns that life consists of more questions than answers, and that it would be utterly presumptuous to assume otherwise. At least for me.

So what matters? At this point of my life, the dream of God matters. I aspire to deepen in my understanding of the dream of God, and to find the fulfillment of my own dreams through an unreserved participation in God's dream. It sounds very abstract, I know. But for an "aging" man, the line between life's abstractions and concreteness gradually blurs.

Age has also revealed to me the reality of my own utter imperfection. In aspiring to participate in the dream of God, I have lost count of the number of times I have stumbled. In fact, the very magnitude of my fallenness has often threatened to hold me back from persisting in my aspiration to share in God's dream. It's only natural that such alternatives are considered when one's dance sometimes becomes a trudge. But within the clutches of grace, here I stand at the unfolding of a new chapter.

I may live for another 30 years. Or I may not. But who's counting...?

Mum, I'm 30 today! Do I get a cookie for that?? Do I?? Do I??

Editor's Note (17 June): Thanks for all your "happy birthday" messages sent by phone and email, as well as the couple of birthday blog entries (see here and here). For those who had the cheek to address me as "old man", wait til your turn comes... you have no idea what I'm gonna do to you.

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Picture: Billy Graham Crusade, Minneapolis, 1996

4. Re-Examining Our Spirituality
When a group of Evangelical leaders from various nations gather in corporate worship, the exhibition of a particular kind of spirituality (or lack thereof) can be a cause for concern. There often seems to be little or no sense of spiritual depth in such Evangelical gatherings. This sometimes renders the sense of unity somewhat frail, especially when the basis of the unity is affirmed based merely on a common concern for world evangelisation. Furthermore, when the sensationalised songs of the pop-western gospel music industry are taken as being representative of Asian Christianity without question, it is a sure sign of something gone wrong in our sense of Christian spirituality.

In my observation, a primary reason for the lack of depth in our spirituality is our general disdain for tradition. For decades, we have sought to dispell tradition. We have often cited the need to return to scripture, but in the process, forget that scripture itself is tradition documented (both oral and written). So we speak or think ill of tradition. When we are unable to discern the difference between tradition and traditionalism, tradition itself is abandoned together with its richness only to be replaced with clichés that constitute what we know as a part of the Evangelical tradition today. This is prevalent both in the west and the east.

There seems to be a rootlessness in Evangelicalism despite our claim to rootedness in scripture. In the absence of tradition, we are perhaps suffering from a crisis of identity. This crisis of identity is often even reflected in the ministerial expression of Evangelical ministers. It is rather telling from the way many individual Evangelical ministers clamour for credentials, recognition and position in their institutional ministries. In observing international Evangelical gatherings, one will see that there are often ministers trying to peddle their ministries and various interests with little regard for the expressed goals of those gatherings.

Within the context of Asian Evangelicalism, such a lack of security in our identity perhaps has something to do with our colonial past. It is unfortunate that even today, our security is garnered by clinging on to western Evangelicalism. We need to develop a security that is deep enough for various expressions of Asian Evangelicalisms that are formed by our own unique cultures and nationalities. This will also propel us into deeper forms of Evangelical spiritualities.

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I'm back! I've just arrived home yesterday evening from a 10-day trip away from Seremban. Too much has happened in those ten days, so I don't think a detail report is in order. But some things did seem to sharply catch my reflective attention.

My first six days was spent facilitating a lengthy conversation among a small group of young people at the Discipleship Training School organised by the Presbyterian Church of Malaysia. The conversation centred around the sharing of God's dream for the establishment of His Kingdom, and how this Kingdom is based on trinitarian and kingdomic relationships. In attempting to understand the dynamics of relationships within this Kingdom's order, issues of mutuality, missionality, grace, offering, and relationality were discussed.

I think we often underestimate the capacity of the younger generation to understand the things of God. There is a level at which at least a significant segment of this generation senses some dislocations within the life of the church although they cannot quite explicate further what they're sensing. They merely feel "something's wrong."

But then, on the other hand, there is also a more significant segment of young people who're unsuspectingly swept by the currents of culture in their religious expressions in an absence of kingdomic understanding and formation. It simply means that the Gospel of the Kingdom needs to be modelled in their midst more intentionally. It is time that a generation of young people be moulded such that they are able to ask "What is the gospel? What is church? What should church look like? Why are we doing it the way we do it now"

When the camp was over, some friends (from my community) and I went to Cameron Highlands. Ah, the mountain! There's something about mountains that brings me closer to the foundational dynamics of life. And of course, there's something about the air there that brings a breath of freshness in my rhythm. The greenery accentuates the artful symphony of mother nature's masterpiece.

Many crucial conversations within my community took place in this house we lived in on the mountain. Beautiful eh? I'm going back there one day soon; and perhaps this time with my dogs! That aside, we discussed the dynamics of kingdomic relationships within faith communities. Also, we examined the delicate nature of the message of the Kingdom and how it should be embodied rather than imposed.

But of course, besides these nicely enriching conversations also came much play and walking around the mountain and enjoyment of the scenery. We spent much time at tea parlours, sipping tea and and chatting while enjoying the beautiful sight of tea plantations on the mountainside... basking in the whispery tenderness of the cool mountain air!

Our friend who does mission work among the aborigines there took us to a village. Many of the people in this village had already embraced the message of the gospel. We also met with the pastor who was assigned to that village (among several other villages). In observing his task at hand, I was struck by the incoherence of the present model of theological training in the seminaries.

This pastor had to study for at least 4 years in the seminary, trying to master the science of theological constructions and scriptural hermeneutics. But upon graduation and being assigned to these aboriginal villages, he had to relearn his paradigm of pastoral ministry. It wasn't so much about theological constructions and scriptural hermeneutics anymore... it was now about building toilets, houses, church buildings, and making coffins for the deceased. Suddenly, theological constructions and scriptural hermeneutics had to find a visible embodiment in his ministerial expression. I wouldn't be surprised if he found himself lost in his initial years of ministry among the aborigines. Also, I don't think his problem is unique. This is undoubtedly fodder for more thought.

The work-cum-holiday season is over. Now, for more work (which will certainly be met with sneaky in-between holidays so I can survive emotionally, hehe)...

P/S: I will shortly continue with my series on Evangelical Shifts. It's ending soon anyway, as I've managed to present most of my thoughts in concised form.

Posted by SK at 01:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Picture: Billy Graham Crusade, Minneapolis, 1996

3. Re-Examining Our Scope of Engagement
The Evangelical interpretation of salvation and redemption has most often been about human souls and escaping the wrath of a just God. This anthropocentric rendition of the gospel has led to an unspoken humanistic tendency in the outworking of our faith. It is also a gospel that is narrow and does not adequately reflect the dream of God for the redemption of creation in its entirety.

What about the incorporation of social responsibility and environmental responsibility as a way of reconciling all of creation to its Creator? After all, salvation as being merely about "saving souls" has produced Christian nations that are still rampant with corruption. And if so, in what way is the gospel "good news"?

For decades, the church has embraced the conversion of Christians who are assured of salvation and who are assured of heaven. But that is as far as their understanding of salvation and reconciliation goes. There is little or no understanding of the gospel as a means of restoring a lost friendship with God and with one's neighbours. This has led to an individualistic faith, a faith that embraces the concept of salvation without seeking a genuine reconciliation of friendship with God and with the community.

We need to recover the understanding that reconciliation is more than merely being "no longer condemned." This understanding is insufficient and deficient. And in search of something deeper, many in the Evangelical circle have pandered to a sensationally conditioned and romanticised relationship with God. But a truly reconciled friendship with God is much deeper and meaningful than that.

The crucial task ahead of us in regard to the scope of our engagement is to recover what the whole gospel means, and what reconciliation in its entirety may mean. It is evidently more than just about the salvation of the soul. There is a concrete social and environmental dimension to it, which cannot be replaced by a romanticised relationship with God.

This implication of this is immediately apparent. We have to engage environmental concerns, ecological responsibility, care for animals and all creation, and social action as legitimate components of the mission of the church-at-large. If before this, it has often been purported that these dimensions of involvement are only for those with liberal inclinations, it is something we must now be humble enough to learn from those whom we called "liberal."

Posted by SK at 06:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Picture: Billy Graham Crusade, Minneapolis, 1996

2. Re-Examining Our Epistemological Position
Every tradition of faith inevitably comes with its underlying epistemological assumptions. As a tradition that was received from the western context, Evangelicalism too possesses its own contextual bias.

For example, there is the assumption that we hold the sole prerogative of truth in its exclusive nature. This innate and often unexamined presupposition is reflected in our interactions (or lack thereof) with other religious proponents and cultural forces. Even where such interactions exist, it seems to often be indicated in Evangelical gatherings that other Asian religions are to be seen as rivals and competitors.

Whilst our gospel may legitimately be held as unique and the only way of salvation (for this claim to exclusiveness is innate within the weltanschuung of many faiths), it does not warrant an insular approach in relating with other faiths. It also does not permit for us to exist as if we have nothing to learn from other faiths and cultures. Hence, there is a crucial need for interfaith dialogues that are undertaken with utmost humility and Christ-like embodiment of his Spirit in the world and through the life of the Christian community.

It would be naïve to assume that gospelising Asia is a simple matter of contextualising our gospel by altering its cosmetics so it becomes more attractive. To represent the gospel in a way that is true to itself, we need to move beyond our established way of propositional proclamation for the simplistic purpose of "saving souls."

We also need to re-examine our foundations. Within our tradition, this preceeding statement itself would provoke a fear of slipping into the clutches of liberal theology. But to not re-examine our foundations is to embrace the equal folly of misrepresenting the heart of the gospel, which may constitute an equal wrong.

There are those among us who have emphatically affirmed that as Asian Christians, we have to move beyond the colonial Christianity that we have received. In the same breath, it is emphasised that this enterprise has to start with the word of God. But isn't our understanding and handling of the word itself (our hermeneutical exercise) also colonially conditioned? Do such realities not need to be acknowledged? If so, does it not also present the imperative of examining, deconstructing, and reconstructing our foundations? Are we culturally as unperceptive as many well-meaning colonial missionairies were?

If the Christian faith has in all these past decades and centuries been presented as a faith based on a linear-logical foundation, perhaps it is time for us to recover the circular-logical and parallel-logical dimensions of the faith as Asian Christians. If it has all this while been based on a propositional foundation, perhaps it is time for us to recover the relational and intuitive dimension of the faith as an authentic Asian faith.

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